The Obligatory Ball
by CeliaEquus
Summary: They had to be there: the Minister and the war heroine. And I had to write a Victory Ball fic at some point. Warning: contains time-travel, competent dancing, and snogging in the hallway. Oh, and Voldemort, but he's only got a cameo.


"The Obligatory Ball"

_She was armed with Harry's Cloak when she stepped through the wall in the Department of Mysteries. People were distracted by the Victory Ball in one of the Ministry's ballrooms; she was safe as long as she remained undetected. And there was no way Hermione Granger would allow herself to be detected._

_She thought about her 'destination' as she walked through the wall. She walked out the same way she came in, hoping that the time-travel had worked. Well, there was only one way to find out._

_Still under the Cloak, she hurried through the Ministry. It seemed to take forever, because now she was constantly fearing that she would be caught. After all, this was almost a year ago._

_She placed a spell on her shoes so that no one could hear her steps, nor could they leave any prints. The last thing she needed was for someone to find their way to the portal and stuff everything up through their own stupidity._

_There they were: screams. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and now she pelted through corridors and took lifts until she reached them._

_Gods, it was terrifying. There was Voldemort – now the late Lord Voldemort, thank Merlin – using the Cruciatus Curse on Rufus Scrimgeour._

_It was painful for Hermione to have to wait until the end, but she had to. She couldn't do anything to stop the torture, no matter how much it hurt to see the former Minister in pain. Her heart constricted with every tiny flicker of agony across his face, and it took every fibre of her stubborn will not to leap forward and protect him._

"_It would be so much easier if you just told me where they were," Voldemort said, crouching low during one of the 'breaks'. Scrimgeour was panting, glaring across at the snake-man, sweat pouring off his forehead. His glasses had slipped to the end of his nose._

"_Like hell it would. I only wish I could be around to see Potter kill you."_

_Voldemort laughed, but Hermione felt like cheering._

"_Do you really suppose that the _boy _has a chance?"_

"_Yes, I do."_

"_And what about the redhead? Where is _he_?"_

"_No," Scrimgeour said, scowling._

"_I know you saw them. The girl? Where is the Mud…"_

"_No!" He drew a calming breath. "I. Don't. Know."_

"_You do!"_

"_I sure as hell wouldn't tell you!"_

"_Liar! Crucio!"_

_Scrimgeour cried out again, his nails scratching at the tiles. He gritted his teeth, and then spat at Voldemort's feet._

Stupid, brave man,_ Hermione thought, drawing her wand. She moved into position just a little behind him and made sure that the Cloak covered her entirely. It would be no good if Voldemort saw her now._

"_Why don't you just kill me?" Scrimgeour asked. "You know damn well you won't get anything out of me."_

"_Bloody Aurors," Voldemort muttered. "Fine," he spoke loudly. "Had you been more co-operative… well." He half-shrugged. "Good-bye, _Minister_." He raised his wand, and so did Hermione. Unseen, she cast a shield over Scrimgeour. "Avada Kedavra!"_

_Scrimgeour slumped over, and Voldemort stormed out of the room. Hermione had to work quickly. She made a Simulacrum out of an old quill she had brought for this very purpose, and arranged it. Then she Levitated Scrimgeour out of the way, moved the Simulacrum into his place, and then propped the man up against the wall. She heard footsteps and threw the Cloak over both of them, moulding herself to his body to give them the best chance of concealment._

_Death Eaters entered the room, and smirked at the 'body'. One of them set it on fire, and the other one made the ashes disappear. It was over in a few minutes, and they left. Hermione waited until the footsteps had faded away. Then she warded the door and removed the Cloak._

_Now came another tricky part. She had to work out how to get him to the Department of Mysteries._

'_Fun', she mouthed sarcastically. Maybe it would be best if he was awake? But she hadn't brought the potion. Still, with a couple of Silencing Spells they might manage._

"_Enervate," she said, her wand pointed at Scrimgeour. He was wincing as he came around, and then his eyes widened when he saw her._

"_Miss Granger?" he asked, looking her up and down. She was in the same dress that she wore to the wedding, which she had done just in case she was seen. This way, at least her clothes would correspond with what she should have been wearing. "Are you out of your bloody mind, girl?"_

"_Yes," she said, holding out a hand. "Come on. We have to get out of here."_

"_State the obvious, why don't you."_

"_Quiet."_

_He certainly did seem to be in pain when he was standing, but refused a Silencing Spell._

"_I'll be fine…"_

"_Don't be a mule. I'll put one on myself, too."_

_He looked sceptical, but nodded. She then non-verbally applied the same spell to his shoes that she had used on hers. Last of all, she made sure that they donned the Cloak, although Scrimgeour had to bend for it to cover both of them. Holding his hand, she led him to the door, which she un-warded._

_Soon they were hurrying as best they could to the DoM. Scrimgeour was limping more than usual, thanks to the torture, and ended up having to put his arm around Hermione's waist to make it easier. She blushed, and shuffled a bit nearer to him._

_It took a long time, but they reached the portal. He looked at her warily, and she lifted all four charms._

"_It's safe where we're going," she whispered._

"_Oh? And just where is this miracle place?" he asked. She gave him a withering look._

"_The future, you dolt. Come on." She stuffed the Invisibility Cloak in her pocket and took his hand. She pulled him through the wall, and was relieved when they arrived back where she had left. She picked up the watch she had left behind, and saw that they had only been gone as long as she'd been in the past._

_She turned when she heard something, and saw Scrimgeour now leaning against a wall. He was holding his side._

"_How did you stop him from killing me?" he asked._

"_It turns out that Professor Snape had been looking for something to…"_

"_Severus Snape?" he said, his expression darkening._

"_Will you listen to me?" He didn't speak. "Thank you. He'd been doing some research, and after he died… it was released to me." She fell silent for a moment, steadying her emotions. She'd been shocked when his will was read out, leaving most of his estate to her. "He was near the end. It only took a few weeks for me to finish it. Professor Slughorn has made the potion to reverse the internal effects of the Cruciatus Curse – I was a lab rat for it – and I performed the Snape Shield on you back there." He grimaced, and she felt guilty. "Sorry! We have to get you to St. Mungo's."_

"_Why the dress?"_

"_Well, it's what I was wearing that day, and it's also the Victory Ball at the moment…"_

"_Hermione! Are you here?"_

"_Harry!" she called, relieved. "See? We'll get you there even quicker now."_

"_Hermione, don't you _dare_ run away like that a… Scrimgeour?" Harry gaped at the former Minister, just as Ron ran up to them. He immediately went to embrace Hermione, who stepped back._

"_Look, I had to try something," she told them. "We have to get to St. Mungo's. Harry, you help me. Ron, could you please get Professor Slughorn?"_

"_I can help you…"_

"_And Slughorn will do anything for me," Harry said, glancing between Hermione and Ron pointedly. She sighed, and nodded. Harry ran off, and Hermione, Ron and Scrimgeour followed at a slower pace._

* * *

That had been one year ago. It was now the second Victory Ball. A few other victims had been able to be saved in the same way, but not many. It was too risky, and some bodies hadn't been left alone long enough for the people to be saved.

The Snape Shield had been patented – the same with the potion – and the proceeds of both had gone to various war charities.

Unfortunately, Hermione was still being bugged by Ron. She loved him; really, she did. Just not in that way. He didn't understand her as much as she needed him to. He didn't understand her fear of failure, he didn't understand her love of research, and he certainly didn't understand why she wasn't into Quidditch.

Most of their friends seemed to think that they were a perfect match, which drove Hermione mad. She hoped that the more she turned Ron down the sooner he'd find his soul-mate, and stop annoying her.

Bless him.

"You look brilliant, `Mione," Harry said, and he hugged her. She stepped back and smoothed down her sunny yellow dress. She saw Ron approaching, and tried not to tense. He still didn't have a date – for that matter, neither did she.

"Hi, Hermione," he said, leaning forward for a kiss. She let his lips touch her cheek, and blushed. But she wasn't blushing because of that. She was blushing because she had seen Scrimgeour in the distance, looking at them.

"How have you both been?" she asked. "Auror training going well?"

"Fine," Ron said. "Why wouldn't it?"

"Well, if either of you answered my letters I wouldn't have to wait until we saw each other to _ask_, would I?" she asked, eyeing them sharply. They had the grace to look embarrassed.

"Well, you've been busy with school," Harry said, scuffing the floor with his shoe. "We didn't want to, uh, waste your time with boring details…"

"Boring? It's been bloody brilliant!" Ron said. "You really should have joined, Hermione."

"I don't write for my own amusement," Hermione said, frowning at them. "I write because – wonder of wonders – I actually want to know how things are going. I suppose I should be grateful that you don't want me to write assignments for you. Maybe I should just write your letters for you? I'm used to your writing style by now, since it's so similar to my own."

Both looked shocked, and glanced at each other.

"Calm down, `Mione," Ron said, placing a hand on her arm. She shook it away.

"Stop that, Ron."

"Hermione?"

She turned around, surprised. "Viktor!" She laughed, and threw her arms around his shoulders. "Hello! You didn't tell me that you'd be here."

"I decided to surprise you," he said. "My English is improving, yes?"

"Very much," she said, linking her arm in his. "You can say my name like a pro."

He tilted his head, and shrugged. "I practised."

"Now," Hermione said, turning to her two best friends, "at least _Viktor_ took the trouble to reply to my letters." She scowled when Ron rolled his eyes, but at least Harry took the trouble to shake Viktor's hand.

"Vould you like to dance, Hermione?" he asked. She nodded, and allowed the Quidditch player to lead her onto the dance floor. They joined the other couples waltzing around the room, chatting and laughing for the few minutes they had.

"So you didn't bring anyone?" Hermione asked.

"Vell, I invited a girl from home, but she von't be here for a little vhile. Vhy?"

"Ron's driving me mad," she confessed.

"She is bringing her sister," he said. "Perhaps…"

"Maybe!" Hermione said, brightening. "Oh, that would make my evening… In fact, it would make my life. So much easier," she added, seeing Scrimgeour again, this time out of the corner of her eye. "Want to get a drink while we wait?"

"That vould be nice."

Later, Viktor spotted his date by the door, and took Hermione to introduce her. Irina was a beautiful brunette, with short dark hair and big blue eyes. Her younger sister had lighter hair, and lighter blue eyes, but was equally as pretty. They were both wearing smart dresses, and Hermione hoped that Katinka would distract Ron enough for the evening, and maybe even after that.

"I could show you around, if you like," Hermione offered. Katinka glanced at Irina, who nodded. She smiled, and followed Hermione.

Ron had grown tired of watching Hermione with '_Vicky_', and was sitting at a table with his back to the dance floor. Harry was busy with Ginny, so it was clear from his slump that Ron was sulking. Hermione cleared her throat, and his chair nearly fell over as he stood and turned around. His jaw dropped when he saw Katinka.

_Yes!_ Hermione shouted internally.

"Ron, this is Katinka Korsakov, the younger sister of Viktor's girlfriend. Katinka, this is one of my best friends – and a war hero – Ronald Weasley."

"Hello," Ron said. He was blushing like mad. Katinka smiled brightly.

"How do you do?" she asked slowly. "I am very glad to be in your country. Viktor has told Irina much of it. My English is not so good."

"It's brilliant," Ron said, looking half-dazed. Hermione crept away, and smiled when she saw them go onto the dance floor. Not looking where she was going, she bumped into someone.

"I'm so sor… oh! Hello, Mr. Scrimgeour. I mean, Minister."

"Miss Granger," he said, bowing over her hand. "How are you this evening?"

"Fine. I was just thinking about you… you know, about what happened a year ago," she said hurriedly, reddening again.

"I was, too. I never really thanked you for your actions."

"You sent me flowers and a card. You also sent me a birthday card and birthday present, things at Christmas, and even acknowledged my graduation. You remembered all of these things better than Harry and Ron did. Both need to be reminded by someone else."

"You saved my life," he said. "The only way to repay that is to save yours."

"I hope that no such situation will arise."

"So do I."

They stood in awkward silence until the end of the music. Hermione was preoccupied by the thoughts of her crush on this man. It was more than a crush, truth be told. For a year she had been unable to go a day without thinking about him. She had nightmares about the torture, and ones where she didn't save him from death in time. Her fear of failure had always remained; but instead of dreaming about the war (something she had been doing ever since it ended), her nights were only filled with the one man.

_

* * *

_

She had been made co-Head Girl in her 'eighth' year. One day, some second years had identified a Boggart and shut it in the trophy room. But, being good, obedient little Ravenclaws, they got a 'figure of authority' to deal with it – and that person just happened to be Hermione. She had given them house points and then sent them away, not wanting them to see her Boggart.

_It had undergone a major change. She shut the door behind her when she saw 'Scrimgeour' standing there, and braced herself to hear the screams that she assumed would be coming._

"_Did you really think that your machinations would work?" he asked. Her eyes widened in surprise._

"_W-what do you mean?"_

_He snorted. "All those letters, those hospital presents. Don't think I don't know that you've been collecting articles about me." She blushed. "Did you think that you could actually make me fall in love with a bushy-haired girl like you? Inexperienced, immature, unattractive, _desperate_. What's next? Will you try to proposition me? Set yourself up for disappointment, young lady…"_

_Hermione was unsurprised when she felt the tears on her cheeks. Why this? She thought that the Boggart…_

"_It's a Boggart," she told herself. The Boggart Scrimgeour burst out laughing. She gritted her teeth and thought of something funny. "Riddikulus!" she shouted, and the Boggart changed into a little lion cub that started performing circus tricks. Still shaken, she let out a weak laugh. Nothing happened. It took a strong laugh to get rid of this Boggart, and she slid down the door, trembling, staying there longer than she meant to._

_She hadn't been trying to win his heart. To be honest, she didn't think that she had a hope. But it had been harsh to have it thrown back in her face. What did he _really_ think of her, and her attempts at friendship?_

* * *

"Dance with me?"

She was pulled out of her memory by the question. Scrimgeour was looking at her seriously, holding out one of his hands. Dumbfounded, Hermione nodded and placed her small hand in his. She suppressed a gasp at the spark she was positive she felt.

Another, slower waltz started. He placed one hand gently on her waist, and held her hand in his other. She placed her free hand on his shoulder. Usually she was unsure about her dancing, not being particularly sporting, nor particularly musical. She prayed to every god and goddess she could think of to prevent her from tripping over like an idiot.

"Relax," he said, and the music began. Hermione's heart pounded crazily as they moved around the floor. Could he hear it? Of course he could. They could have heard it all the way to Scotland. Mrs. Norris was probably trying to work out what it was right now.

"I'm… not a confident dancer," she said. Oh gods! Was that a _tremor_ in her voice?

"Neither am I."

"Oh." She looked confused. "But you're doing fine."

"You said 'confident', not 'competent'. I can dance well, even with my leg. But it's because of my leg that I don't have the confidence to do it much. I restrict myself to waltzing."

"Well, you're very good at it," she said.

"Thank you," he murmured. She smiled, and watched the room spinning by as they danced.

_

* * *

_

Towards the end of the school term several of the people in her year had been taken to the Ministry to look over possible options for employment. She, Ginny and Luna had been amused when they all went to the Department of Mysteries, and yet saddened when they remembered that battle.

_The Mirror of Erised had been stored in one of the renovated rooms, and they all had a look. Some people were quite shocked. Hermione was absolutely floored, and nearly fainted when she saw what was in the reflection._

_She was standing there beside a tall man with tawny-coloured hair and wire-rimmed glasses. They were holding hands, and her head was resting against his shoulder. She was looking slightly bigger than usual, but this question was cleared up when Scrimgeour – when _Rufus_ – placed his hand on her stomach, and then smiled. She noticed that they were wearing matching rings, and swallowed. Her throat hurt._

_They were married, and she was expecting their child._

_This was her heart's desire: to be Mrs. Rufus Scrimgeour._

* * *

"You can talk if it makes you feel more comfortable," he said.

"Please forgive me. I was thinking."

"About whom?"

"Whom?"

"You looked happy, and then sort of… sad and resigned. If it wasn't about someone, then _what_ was it about?"

"Oh. I was, uh, thinking about when we were here for the Ministry tour. Looking at possible work."

"I see." They were nearing the end of the dancing, but Hermione could have gone on forever. "Where have you decided to work?"

"I haven't. Not yet."

"I owe you my life. Wherever you desire to go, just tell me. I can make it happen."

Kingsley hadn't been comfortable in an administrative role, as he was still able to help hunt down the last few rogue Death Eaters; especially as they had lost Moody and Tonks during the war. Scrimgeour was therefore given a second chance as Minister for Magic, although he allowed far more input from others when making decisions. Besides, it was mainly clean-up and restoring everything to proper order, something he was familiar with.

"I'll think about it," she said. "It's very kind of you."

"Miss Granger, I reiterate: you saved my life. I'd do anything for you."

Hermione gazed up at him. _If only you would. But I can't take advantage of your offer._

"I've been thinking. The truth is, Professor Snape left more to me thank most people realise. There was so much research he began that he never had the opportunity to finish. I would like to do that for him. Who knows?" She laughed. "Maybe there'll be a way to save him. Just as long as I can still have access to the time portal in the Department of Mysteries."

"You're a wonderful person," he said. The humour left her face. "Always thinking of others. I heard you reprimanding your friends before," he added, apparently changing the subject. "Sounded like they deserved it."

"Maybe." Just then the music stopped, and they almost ran into another couple. They joined the others in applauding the musicians.

"Would you like to sit down?"

"Yes, please," she said. The longer she stayed by him, the closer her knees were to giving way from under her. It was frustrating when the Minister led her all the way to a table in a dimly-lit corner. He held out a chair for her, and she sank into it gratefully. He sat opposite, and continued to look at her. Someone came over quickly with champagne. Both waved it away simultaneously, and then laughed when they realised what they'd done.

"It all tastes like vinegar to me," he said. She bit her lip, and nodded.

"I know. I tried it once, thinking that magical champagne might be different from Muggle champagne. But it isn't. In fact, it's worse."

Scrimgeour made a face. "I don't see the appeal."

She giggled. "Neither do I."

"Maybe I should make a policy about it," he said, half-smiling. She had to cover her mouth to muffle her laughter.

"Oh, I'd love to see that," she said, her eyes sparkling. Scrimgeour cracked a real smile, and her heart leapt.

"Then I'll keep that in mind," he said.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said, walking up to them. "Hello, Minister."

"Potter. Doing well, I hear."

"Yes, sir. I hope so."

"Miss Weasley all right?"

Harry smirked. "She's going to marry me."

Hermione uncharacteristically squealed, and leapt up. She wrapped him in a huge hug, and then looked around for Ginny.

"Where is she?" she asked, then she saw her friend. "Congratulations, Harry." She looked at the Minister. "Uh… I'll be back soon?"

He chuckled. "Take your time, Miss Granger. Congratulations, Potter."

"Thank you, Minister. We'll send you an invitation as soon as everything's finalised. But we're making the announcement tonight, if that's okay."

"Go right ahead."

Hermione quickly kissed Harry's cheek and then hurried over to Ginny. She didn't like to leave Scrimgeour – not when they were getting on so well – but her friends' happiness was more important.

When Hermione returned to the table later, she found that Neville, Hannah and Ernie were there. Thinking that she had the wrong place, she checked out the other corners, only to find that they were either empty or were occupied by people decidedly _not _the Minister for Magic. Her heart sank, and she sighed. She couldn't see him anywhere else.

_Probably got called away for some work thing_, she thought. She looked around, and suddenly didn't feel like dancing anymore. Besides, any conversation for the rest of the evening would be all about Harry Potter's engagement, especially since she was the coveted third part of the Golden Trio. Men – and boys – thought that just because she was plain she would fall into their arms with gratitude. Then they could boast that they'd been with _the_ Hermione Granger.

It was maddening.

She did her best to leave the room, even though she kept getting invitations to dance. They were either strangers or people who never gave her the time of day before she became so famous. Needless to say, she brushed them all off, and was finally able to breathe once she reached the corridor outside. She peeked back around into the room, watching with some little envy at all the happy couples. Ron and Katinka looked like they were on the way to something good, Harry and Ginny were swirling around, Neville and Hannah were dancing, Viktor and Irina were together. She sighed, and turned around.

Yet again she bumped into someone. She blushed when she saw that it was the same person.

"We should stop meeting like this, Hermione," Scrimgeour said, steadying her. "You were leaving so soon?"

"Well, there'll only be one topic of conversation now, and I'll be bombarded with questions about Harry and Ginny, being one of their close friends. That's the problem with going stag. No date to rescue me."

"That would be the perfect cue," he said, holding out his hand. "I'll repay the favour. Not the same thing, of course, but…"

"No! No, it's fine. I can't take up your whole evening, Minister."

"But you can take up the best part." She stared at him, and he dropped his hand. "Too forward?"

"You used my name before. I only just realised."

"Well, formality seems ridiculous," he said. "You should start calling me 'Rufus'."

"I take up too much of your time with my correspondence as it is," she said. "I'm surprised that you even write back."

"It's flattering to have a pretty young woman writing to me," he said, half-smiling. She looked at the floor. "Sorry. Was I too forward again?"

"No."

"It's just that… well, I'm probably reading too much into your letters, but do you…" He stopped, and shook his head. "I know I'll regret asking this, but do you have feelings for me?"

Her eyes widened. _He knows_, she thought, panicking. _It's going to happen, just like the Boggart showed me._

"I'm… I'm sorry, Minister. I shouldn't have…"

"No, you're right," he said, holding up a hand. "Forget I mentioned it." Hermione looked at the floor again.

"Do you want me to stop writing to you?" she asked quietly.

"Merlin, _no_! Don't let my foolishness stop you. They're the highlight of my week." She looked up, chewing at her lip. "Oh. I probably shouldn't've said that. But… maybe I should just tell you anyway. Get it out in the open."

"You guessed. I should have known better."

He looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"I never should have started writing to you. I mean, you're an ex-Auror; of course you'd figure it out. Even Ron would have figured it out. Well," she smiled bitterly, "perhaps that's stretching the imagination."

"Figured out _what_?"

Now Hermione looked confused. "That… that I'm in love with you." His mouth fell open. "Isn't that… isn't that what we were talking a… Oh gods." She hid her face in her hands. "I got completely the wrong end of the stick." She shook her head, mortified. "I'm sorry, Mini…"

She found herself pushed up against the wall, hands held either side of her head, and Scrimgeour's face extraordinarily close.

"…ster," she finished weakly.

"Call me Rufus," he said, and then he crushed his lips to hers.

It took Hermione's breath away. He was kissing her! Rufus Scrimgeour – the man she loved – was _kissing_ her! He pressed his body against hers, and she felt wonderfully warm and protected. There was only one thing wrong. She pushed at his hands, trying to get him to let go so she could hold him, too. To her dismay, he moved back as they fell to his sides.

"Don't stop," she whispered, and she pulled his head down to meet hers. For a moment, he didn't respond. But then his arms were around her waist, and they were kissing furiously. Sometimes their noses bumped, and Hermione was well aware of her inexperience in the kissing department. But after several minutes they parted, giving themselves time to breathe.

"I've been wanting that longer than I care to admit," Scrimgeour said, staring at her.

"So have I. But… what _were_ you talking about earlier?"

"I hoped that you were writing to me because you cared about me. I wanted you to like me, at the very least. I… I never expected you to return my feelings." He looked at the floor, smiling softly. Hermione took a step forward, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Rufus…?"

"I love you, Hermione."

"How long?"

"Don't know. When I met you, and saw what a good friend you were to those you loved, I… I wanted something like that. I've seen the way you greet people. Viktor Krum, for example. I thought it would be nice if someone would greet me like that. Then that someone just became you. And then… I thought I'd died, and would never see you again. I wasn't denying Voldemort for your friends; only for you." He took her hands in his, stroking them with his thumbs. "Then I was given a chance to love you, and I took it. To know that…"

"I love you."

"It makes everything seem worthwhile." He kissed her on the cheek. "Even if you're so young."

"Age is just a number."

He stroked her hair. "Easy enough for you to say."

"Didn't you read those articles about me during the Triwizard Tournament? I've been labelled as a heart-breaker before. Let them say what they want about me. Just… love me, Rufus."

"I do. I will."

Then he leaned in for another kiss.

**

* * *

**

I'm determined to write a chaptered story of this pairing. This is sort of a warm-up.

**Clearly this is DH compliant before the epilogue. I'll put a disclaimer here, for a change. *Clears throat* "Roh tua suoma fai maro ne sih cnarf sih tfo sret carah conn woi. Sae dinwo ymtu bgnih tonn woi."**

**(The clue to working this out is in Hermione's third flashback.)**

**Have fun! And please review.**


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